A Touch of Love
by ggo85
Summary: Another in a series of James Henry vignettes. This time, he and Dad go on an outing and, in the process, learn a little something about each other.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:**

**Rating: G **

**Setting: For you JH fans out there, this is the second in (what I hope will become) a series of James Henry vignettes. This story is another snapshot in time; it's the same JH as in my prior story but at another moment in his young life. ****This story takes place approximately 7 years after S5E8. **

**Disclaimer: The story and characters of Doc Martin belong to Buffalo Pictures. This work of fan fiction is for personal amusement only and no infringement of any legal rights is intended.**

* * *

I figured out early on in my life that my dad was a doctor and that people came to his surgery when they were sick or hurt and he made them better. However, I obviously wasn't allowed in the surgery when he was seeing patients so, other than the times that he'd taken care of me, I'd never actually seen him doctoring anyone.

All of my friends at school went to my dad, mostly for routine stuff like school medicals, jabs, and the occasional cold or sore throat. Or at least that's what they'd told me because dad never talked about his patients. I'd once asked Dad about one of my friends who was sick. His face had turned to stone and he'd said, "James, I can't discuss my patients with anyone." I wasn't sure what I'd done wrong. After all, what good was it having your dad as the GP when he wouldn't tell you anything about what was wrong with your friends?

Mum had later explained that Dad wasn't allowed to talk about his patients, even to Mum and me. She said something about "ethics" and "patient confidentiality," which I didn't understand at all. She'd then asked how I would feel if he told all of my friends about my medical problems.

I'd responded, "He wouldn't do that because he's my dad." Mum shook her head, rolled her eyes, and gave up trying to explain anything more other than reminding that I shouldn't ever ask Dad about his patients.

What was really tough for me was when one friend wanted the scoop on why another friend – or the friend's brother, sister, mum or dad – had gone to visit the GP. Because my dad was the GP, they not only expected me to know all about the visit, but to share my prized information. I'm not sure they believed me when I said that my dad wasn't allowed to tell me anything.

So, all in all, I was kind of disappointed that my dad was the village doctor. Even worse were the infrequent times when he decided to get involved in non-medical parts of my life. It was one thing for him to come to my football games or school recitals – minimal time at a distance. It was quite another matter when he decided to spend an entire day with my friends and me, like the time my Year 2 class went a field trip to the Newquay zoo.

The night before, my parents nearly had a row about whether I'd even be allowed to go. They'd sent me upstairs to my room early while they "discussed the matter," as they put it, but I'd crept down the steps to listen as my fate hung in the balance.

Dad wasn't keen on field trips to begin with. "Children learn in school," he'd often said when this subject came up, "not spending half the day sitting on a bus and the other half gawking at trees or paintings or something equally useless. He'd be better off staying home and studying his maths." I knew that, if were up to my dad, I'd probably never go on a field trip anywhere, anytime. Luckily, mum had been a teacher and had a somewhat different view.

That night, Mum kept talking about how important it was for me to go to the zoo to see the animals in person, to pet them, to touch them, and to feed them. "You can't appreciate the size and beauty of an ostrich simply by looking at picture books or on the Internet," she'd said.

My dad had called the zoo animals "diseased creatures" and then rattled off a bunch of long and complicated names of things they might "carry" and which I might "catch," which at the time didn't make much sense to me.

And then he started in on how filthy zoos and wild animals were. I shouldn't have been surprised. As long as I could remember, my dad had been unusually concerned about dirt and disease. Clean hands, clean sheets, clean towels, clean underwear, clean socks . . . part of it probably came from his being a doctor. But he didn't seem to understand that fun stuff often caused you to get dirty, like catching tadpoles in the creek or eating a huge chocolate ice cream in the middle of summer. And it made me wonder whether he'd had much fun when he was my age.

He didn't talk much about being a kid. A few times I'd asked him whether he'd done this or that – usually something I was keen on doing myself. Most of the time, he got a faraway look in his eyes and said, "No, I didn't." So I asked what he did for fun when he was a kid, and the stuff he talked about – reading books, playing chess, and learning to play the piano - didn't sound like much fun to me. And I bet he'd never been to the zoo.

"Martin," Mum said that night when my Dad had finally finished with all the bad stuff about animals and zoos, "All of the other children in his class will be going to the zoo. How will it look if James is the only one who isn't there?"

"It will look like his parents are the only ones exercising appropriate parental responsibility," my dad replied.

Mum wouldn't back down and, in the end, Dad had agreed to let me go on the field trip, but only if he could go along with us, which didn't seem such a good idea to me. Dad, I'd learned, could be unpredictable at times, and I was worried about what he might say or do in front of the other kids. I could only hope some medical emergency would call him away at the last minute.

It was not to be and, the next morning, Dad was at the school car park at the appointed time, dressed in his usual suit and carrying his large medical bag. I didn't really understand why he needed his bag but, knowing him, he was probably afraid one of the animals would take a bite out of one of us, or something like that.

At first I was proud of Dad for riding with us on the school bus rather than driving in his car. He sat in the front, right across from our teacher, Miss Devonshire. He looked really uncomfortable on our small unpadded seats, hunched over with his knees almost pushing through the seat in front of him.

"I'm so glad you were able to join us on this field trip, Doctor Ellingham." Miss Devonshire said to him early on in the trip. "It's always hard to find parents willing to chaperone."

"Yes."

"This is an excellent zoo; it will be a wonderful experience for the children."

"Uh-huh." Dad wasn't even looking at her.

"I'm sure James is happy to have you along."

"I doubt that," he replied, and I wholeheartedly agreed.

Miss Devonshire apparently decided that my dad wasn't much of a talker because she turned away and didn't speak to him again during the ride.

I almost died when Dad asked the bus driver why all of us weren't wearing seat belts, listing all of the possible injuries we might suffer in the event of a crash. Our driver, Mrs. Perkins, assured him that the law didn't require seatbelts and that we were perfectly safe. He said no more but didn't look convinced.

When the bus went over big bumps in the road, all of us jumped high out of our seats and screamed loudly. The first time we did it, Dad turned around, all red in the face, like he wanted to shout at someone, but didn't.

The second time it happened, he did.

"Quiet! Shut up! The lot of you! How can you expect the woman to drive the bus safely with all of you shouting like that."

He pointed at Jessica, one of the girls in my class whom I rather liked, although I'd never tell her. "You there! What are you doing out of your seat? Sit down before you fall down and cut your head wide open!"

Several pairs of eyes – including Jessica's – immediately flicked to me, and I couldn't decide if they felt sorry for me for having this raving tosser as my dad or were blaming me for letting him come along. I slunk down in my seat and fervently wished I could sink right out of the bottom of the bus or that whatever gods existed would whisk me away. I should have stayed home, I told myself. This trip was going to be a nightmare. I should have skipped the stupid zoo and stayed home.

When we finally arrived at the Newquay zoo, everyone wanted to get out of the stuffy bus and into the fresh air. They pushed their way to the front, chatting excitedly about what we were soon to see. When I'd clambered out of the bus, I pulled Dad aside while the others all raced toward the zoo entrance.

"Dad, please don't," I begged softly.

"Please don't what? What am I doing wrong?" he asked in a loud voice, and I quickly glanced around to see who might be listening. Thankfully, everyone else was more interested in getting their tickets and being the first through the turnstile than watching me talk to my dad. Or, more likely, after my dad's explosion on the bus, they didn't want to get near either of us.

"Please don't . . ." How did I say to my dad, "Please don't be you?" How did I explain to him that the other kids found him really smart but a bit weird and that, when he acted the way he had a few minutes ago in front of my friends, I was the one who ended up suffering at their hands.

I tried again. "I know you don't much like animals." The look on Dad's face confirmed that much. "Maybe you could wait for us . . ." I searched the area for someplace he might find comfortable that would be well away from my classmates and me. As we walked toward the entrance, my eyes lit upon the zoo's small café. "Might you get a cup of tea, maybe, while we're inside?"

He frowned down at me. "That rather defeats the purpose of my coming, doesn't it?"

As I was trying to think of another way to tell my dad that he was embarrassing the heck out of me, Miss Devonshire came up to us.

"Doctor Ellingham, as long as you're here, perhaps you could stay with the back of the group as we move through the exhibits. With a class this size, it's sometimes hard to keep all of the children together. You could help make sure we don't lose anyone."

There were only a dozen of us so it wasn't like we could run off in too many directions at once. Still, the expression on my dad's face made clear that he wasn't excited about the prospect of overseeing a group of unruly children.

"It would be a great help," my teacher added.

"Yes, um, all right," Dad said without enthusiasm.

"Wonderful!" Miss Devonshire gushed.

I had somewhat the same thought. If I couldn't keep Dad from going with us into the zoo, at least he'd be in the back of the pack and maybe less likely to make some comment that I'd regret later.

My teacher beckoned us forward. "If you'll just follow me inside; the children are excited to get started."

Well, most of the children, I mentally added. The child of Dr. Martin Ellingham - namely me - headed into the zoo with a tight knot in his stomach and a short prayer that this day wouldn't turn into a disaster.


	2. Chapter 2

Once inside the zoo, Miss Devonshire quickly gathered the lot of us and introduced us to the zoo guide, a guy named Matt. He had curly blond hair, fierce blue eyes, a suntanned face, and a lot of energy.

"Hi everyone! I'm Matt, your zoo guide. Welcome to the Newquay Zoo! We're really glad you're here today."

Matt spent the first few minutes talking about the history of the zoo and some of the weird animals we'd get to see on our visit. "Okay, who wants to see our red pandas?" he finally asked, and all of us shouted our interest. He waved his arm in the air. "Let's go then. Follow me!"

I pushed my way to the front of the group, eager to gauge whether my best mates were still speaking to me and to distance myself from my father and any future outbursts. As we approached the pandas, I made sure to keep far enough away from the animals so my father wouldn't feel the need to intercede.

All of the girls thought the red pandas, which were a whole lot smaller than the black and white pandas we'd all seen in photos, were "sooo cute." Even though the panda looked more like a cat than a bear, we boys talked about the fact they really _were_ bears and bears were ferocious.

"Not quite," Matt corrected. "Although the animal is called a red panda, and we think of a panda as a bear, the red panda is not a predator like the large brown bears and black bears of North America. It's much more like the giant panda from China in that it mostly eats bamboo. But, if it gets really hungry, it may eat eggs, birds, insects, and even small animals."

At the sound of this, most of the girls shrieked. I snuck a quick glance at my dad, who was rolling his eyes. Matt continued to explain why the number of red pandas in the wild was decreasing. I only half listened; I was mostly praying that my dad wouldn't openly disagree with something he said and kind of wished my mum was here instead.

After seeing the pandas and then the African lion which we all agreed was quite dangerous, Matt took us down the trail to see the Breton sheep. "We have a dad and mum sheep here," he told us. "Harry and Matilda. They've been with us for four years."

I supposed they must be special sheep because they were in a zoo, but to me they looked like the sheep I'd seen in the fields and farms around our village. I shrugged with disinterest. Sheep were sheep.

Matt was still talking. "About a month ago, Matilda had a baby." That comment piqued all of our interest. "I'm sure you all know that a baby sheep is called a lamb." We all nodded as he went behind an enclosure and, a minute later, returned carrying a small white lamb in his arms. "We call her Daisy."

I loved small animals. There was a dog named Eddie that hung out around Dad's surgery. Dad didn't like him and liked it even less when I tried to pet him. I'd asked for a dog for Christmas and didn't get one. Knowing my dad's feeling about dogs, my getting a dog was probably never going to happen. So I'd tried asking for a cat, a hamster, a gerbil – even a fish. It didn't take long to figure out that the only animals I'd ever see would be those at my friends' houses, those running loose in the village, or those at the zoo.

And right now, Daisy was the cutest animal I'd ever seen, much better than Eddie. With her white hair, black eyes, pointed ears and pink nose, she looked absolutely adorable. I couldn't take my eyes off her and, when she let out a little "baa," I was in love.

"Is there anyone here who'd like to pet Daisy?" Matt asked, and the air was filled with the sounds of all of us raising our hands and shouting, "Me! Me!" at the same time.

I stood there watching Daisy resting in Matt's arms and suddenly wanted to pet her more than anything. I hung back and watched the other kids crowd forward for the chance to run their hands along the lamb's fluffy hair and stroke her face. I stole a glance at my dad. He looked straight at me and gave a slight shake of his head, which I knew meant I wasn't even to think about it.

Well, at least I could see her up close, closer to a lamb than I'd ever been before. Yeah, I'd seen lambs in the fields outside of Portwenn, but never so close as to be able to touch one. Just when I thought it would be okay and that I would get over not having the chance to pet the animal, Matt pulled a baby bottle out of his pocket. "Has anyone here not had a chance to pet Daisy?" he asked.

By now, only a handful of us non-petters remained and all of us raised our hands. "Well, I've got a special treat for you." He put the lamb on the ground in front of him and held out the bottle. "For being so patient and waiting your turn, those of you who didn't get a chance to pet Daisy can take turns feeding her."

Oh my. I thought I'd wet my pants. I could actually feed Daisy with the bottle. I wouldn't exactly have to touch her because my hand would be on the bottle. Not only did I want desperately to do this, it would give me bragging rights with all the kids in my class. Surely Dad wouldn't . . . he'd at least let me do this, wouldn't he?

Hoping against hope, I nervously again looked back at Dad, standing tall in the sun in his dark suit and gave him my most eager expression.

And again he shook his head. Just one time but it was all I needed. The answer was no. No, I couldn't touch the lamb; no, I certainly couldn't feed the lamb.

And in that moment I hated him. I absolutely hated him. Every other kid in the class got to pet Daisy or feed Daisy. Everyone except me. And all because of my dad. Because my dad had to come on this stupid trip, because my dad had some problem with animals. If Mum had been here, she would have let me pet and feed Daisy, I just knew it. After all, that was the whole reason for my coming on this trip in the first place. It wasn't fair! It just wasn't fair.

"Anyone else?" Matt called out, glancing around our small group.

I wanted to step forward, to take my turn feeding that little lamb. Miss Devonshire looked my way. She'd kept track, making sure as she always did that each of us kids had the same opportunity. I could do it. I could disobey my dad. I could touch the lamb before Dad could stop me.

And, with a deep sigh, I knew I couldn't. If I did, Dad would step forward and say or do something that would be even worse than not getting to feed the lamb, something I'd regret for a long, long time. I sighed and shook my head at my teacher, signaling I was okay not doing what everyone else had done and what I so very much wanted to do.

The other kids were so absorbed in watching and petting and feeding Daisy that they hadn't even noticed my lack of participation. Another glance at my Dad found him impatiently checking his watch, clearly oblivous to the depth of my disappointment.

"Okay, then," Matt said in a cheerful voice as handed off Daisy to one of his co-workers.

I despaired at the sight of her being taken away. She was gone, and so was my last chance to touch her.

"Hope you all enjoyed that," Matt addded.

Right, I thought to myself.

Matt started to head down the gravel and dirt path. "Now, let's move on to the reptiles. I know you're all anxious to see the rattlesnakes and the cobras."

The guys all shouted their excitement while the girls screamed in fear.

I hated snakes. I didn't want to see the snakes. I wanted to run back to the sheep pen and feed Daisy or at least pet her. I wanted to cry. The only reason I didn't was that boys my age didn't cry and I'd never live it down. Of course, the other boys had all been able to touch the lamb. They didn't have a father who insisted on coming on field trips and then ruined everything. No, when they got home to their mums and dads, they could tell all about how they'd been able to pet and feed a real lamb.

As our class headed off to the reptile house, I couldn't bear to look at my dad. The only thing I could think was that, of all the dads in the world, why did he have to be mine?

I didn't pay attention during the explanation of various snakes and lizards and toads. I could only think of Daisy and the fact I'd never again have the chance to touch her. Every time I thought about her, my eyes misted up and it was all I could do not to cry.

At this point, I really didn't care what animal we saw next. I couldn't touch it; I couldn't feed it; I couldn't even get near it. I don't know why I was on this stupid trip. I'd be better off looking at animals in a book or watching them on the telly.

The current zoo person who was talking to us was named Allison and, when I finally started listening, realized she was telling us about the ostrich. Whatever. It didn't matter. While everyone else was gathered around Allison and talked excitedly about the large bird, I stood off to the side. I knew I was sulking and I didn't care.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dad walking towards me. I didn't even glance his way as he approached.

"James, are you all right?" He grabbed my shoulders and tried to peer down into my eyes.

I shrugged him off and turned away. "Leave me alone."

"James? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I lied.

He again put his hand on my shoulder. "If nothing's wrong, I don't understand—"

He didn't understand that all I wanted was to be like the other kids. He didn't understand that I wanted to get dirty and ride my bike in the street and have a dog . . . and pet little lambs. And I was beginning to think he never would.

"You don't understand anything. Just let me be." I was nearly sobbing. "Just let me be."

He dropped his hand. "Alright, James." The hurt in his voice matched that in my heart.


	3. Chapter 3

Naturally, the first thing we did after we climbed aboard the bus for the ride home was talk about all the stuff we'd seen and done at the zoo. The boys mostly talked about the snakes, armadillos, lions and other animals that made us sound tough, whereas the girls preferred the lemurs, rabbits and meerkats – cute and cuddly, at least in their view.

While no one agreed on the scariest or cutest animal, the one thing everyone did agree on was that the encounter with Daisy the lamb was the highlight of the trip.

"Her hair was sooo soft," Jessica said, eyes wide with the memory. "I wish I could have petted her all day."

"Feeding her was the best!" someone called out from the back of the bus. "She sucked on the bottle just like my baby brother."

"I wish I could have her as a pet."

"You dummy, she's going to grow really big like her mum and dad."

"Yeah, I'll take a snake any day."

"You can't pet a snake, stupid."

"I'm not stupid."

"Yes you are! Stupid! Stupid!"

"Stop it!"

The conversation swirled around me as I sat silently mulling my fate. As far as I was concerned, the entire zoo trip had been somewhere between a disappointment and a disaster. Although my dad hadn't said or done anything to embarrass me, he hadn't exactly let me have a fun outing. Sure I'd seen some unusual animals up close. But what was the point if I wasn't allowed to touch or feed them? Isn't that why I was supposed to have come?

"Hey, James, what was your favorite animal?" Colin asked.

I shrugged with disinterest. "They were all okay, I guess."

"But which did you _like_ the best?"

"I liked the lion," I said, more because it sounded like the right answer than it was the truth. I'd liked Daisy best, but there was no way I'd admit it to my friends.

"Yeah, the lion was so cool," Colin said and then turned back to the other boys as I returned to staring out the window where the bright and sun of the day contrasted with the black gloom of my mood.

We'd all brought snacks with us, and Miss Devonshire let us eat them on the ride back to the school. Of course, before we could do that, we all had to check out what everyone else had brought and then got busy exchanging food with each other. At least the talk of food replaced the discussion of the animals.

"Hey, James, what have you got?" my friend Colin asked, reaching over from the seat behind me and pointing at my bag.

"Dunno. Let me check." I dug around in the brown paper bag Mum had packed for me this morning. "An apple and some biscuits," I reported without enthusiasm.

Colin, however, perked up at my words. "Biscuits? What kind?"

I checked again. "Oatmeal." Mum had made them from scratch the night.

"Cool. I love those. Want to trade a biscuit for some raisins?"

Most days, I would have kept the biscuits for myself because Mum baked really great biscuits. Today, I didn't care. I shrugged and handed over two of the home-baked items. "Sure." After what had happened at the zoo and with my Dad, I didn't much feel like eating, so it didn't really matter whether I had biscuits or raisins or whatever.

Colin immediately turned to Jessica, sitting behind and across the aisle from me. "Jess, want to trade an oatmeal biscuit for some of your peppermints?"

"No way, Colin." Jessica shook her head defiantly and turned to Mary sitting behind her. "I've got peppermints, a tangerine, and chocolates. What about you?"

"Almonds, carrots and an apple," Mary replied.

"Carrots! Yuck." Jess made a face. "But I'll trade you my tangerine for your apple."

"Sure! I love tangerines," Mary said, handing over the bright red fruit.

At least I wasn't sitting near Dad. He'd again taken a seat at the front of the bus across from Miss Devonshire and, thankfully, hadn't looked back at me once since we'd left the zoo. I knew that, when we got home, he'd want some sort of explanation for my behavior, only I had no idea what I'd tell him.

He wanted to be a good dad, no doubt about that. When I had an event at school like a play or recital, he was always there with Mum, unless he had a medical emergency. He helped me with my homework. He wasn't all that good at athletics but made sure that I got plenty of lessons and came to my games whenever he could. He bought me the best of everything – clothes, sports stuff, school supplies – whatever I needed. I knew that he was proud of me and he loved me.

"Hey James," Colin called out. "These biscuits are really good."

I simply nodded.

It wasn't even that Dad was super strict. In fact, sometimes he surprised me by letting me stay up past my bedtime or watch a movie Mum wasn't too keen on my seeing. The problem was that he always assumed he knew what was best for me; he didn't understand why certain things that he thought were stupid or crazy might be important to me. Like petting Daisy. And when I tried to explain, it only seemed to make things worse. Like today.

Dad tried really hard to be a good dad. He just wouldn't let me be me.

"Hey Jess." It was Colin's voice from the seat behind me. "Stop that! You look like a goofball."

"Yeah," someone else said, laughing loudly. "Goofball."

What was Jess doing now?

"Wait a sec. I think something's wrong with her!" That sounded like Mary. "It's like she can't breathe."

"Nah, she's faking."

"Cut it out, Jessica."

"Yeah, you're scaring us."

I pulled myself out of my daydream to see what had everyone so excited. When I looked around, I saw that behind and across the aisle from me, Jessica was clutching her throat. We often faked stuff to scare each other so I couldn't tell if she was being serious or not.

"Jess," I said tentatively, scrutinizing her closely. "You okay?"

She shook her head and her eyes were wide with a fear that sure looked real to me.

All the kids stared at Jess and then at each other, trying to figure out whether there was really a problem and, if so, what to do. The only thing I could focus on was Jess – and I was pretty sure she was in trouble.

"Dad!" The word came out of my mouth almost before I realized I'd spoken. I didn't know what was wrong with Jessica but knew that, if it was something bad, the one person on this bus who could help her was my dad. As far as I was concerned, he could help anyone and, right now, Jessica needed help.

I also hoped I was doing the right thing, because if she were faking, Dad would give her a serious tongue-lashing about wasting his time. And probably me as well for calling him.

"Dad!" I repeated, more urgently this time, hearing the panic in my voice. "Come quick! It's Jessica."

Dad turned around at the sound of my calling him, then pulled himself out of the bench seat and slowly made his way down the aisle. There was a scowl on his face, and he was probably wondering what stupid thing one of us kids had done now.

"It's Jessica," I called out again. As he moved toward us, I pointed at my friend. "She's –" I wasn't sure how to explain. If anything, she looked even worse than a few seconds ago and I could have sworn that her face was turning blue.

Dad took one look at her, frowned, and moved forward more quickly. "Out of the way!" he said pushing through my classmates hanging into the aisle. I noted in passing that Miss Devonshire trailed a few feet behind him, a worried expression on her face.

When Dad reached Jessica's seat, he immediately grabbed her by the shoulders and peered into her face, then pressed the fingers of his right hand against her neck.

"Can you speak?" he asked.

It seemed to take every ounce of effort for her to shake her head. Her eyes were wide with fear and the way her chest heaved, it was if it she couldn't breathe at all. I'd never seen anything so scary in my entire life.

"What happened?" Dad asked, glancing around at the rest of us. His voice was calm and sure, as if he was in full control of the situation which, I decided with a small sense of pride, he probably was.

When no one spoke, he asked the question again. "What happened?" This time, his voice was stern, demanding an answer.

"She was eating an apple," Mary half-whispered. "I think that's what's left of it," she added, pointing to the apple core on the seat beside Jess.

"And then she couldn't talk," Colin added.

"What's wrong with her?" Miss Devonshire asked, her face now turning pale.

"Tracheal obstruction." Dad's eyes flickered between Jess and the piece of apple; he barely looked at my teacher.

I had no idea what that meant but Miss Devonshire obviously did because her face seemed to get even whiter and she started wringing her hands.

"The apple's lodged in her throat and she can't breathe," Dad added, and I wondered if the explanation was for my benefit.

Oh, God, I thought to myself. That sure sounded bad and I was suddenly glad my dad was here.

Dad braced himself in the tiny aisle space between the seats. He easily picked Jessica off her feet and turned her around in his arms, as if she were a doll, hugging her back tightly to his body. The other kids had stopped talking, and all eyes were on what my dad was doing.

We all watched as he put his fist into her tummy, clasped his other hand over the fist, and suddenly jerked upward. He was so big and Jessica was so small, I thought she might break.

I wasn't sure what was supposed to happen but, before I could figure it out, Dad wrenched Jessica's tummy again and again, and I could have sworn her eyes bulged and that her lips turned blue. It was as if she was dying right in front of us.

Jessica couldn't die, wouldn't die. Dad wouldn't let her.

Given that I'd never actually seen my dad take care of anyone other than Mum and me, I had no idea whether he could save someone's life. And yet, I did. As bad as Jess looked, I was sure my dad was doing the right thing and was equally certain that, whatever it took, he'd save her life.

Suddenly, Jess went limp in Dad's arms. One minute, her eyes were bright with fear and the next minute they were closed and the only thing holding her up was my dad's strong embrace.


	4. Chapter 4

"Driver!" Dad shouted toward the front of the bus. "Pull over!" When nothing happened, he shouted even louder. "Pull this bus to the side of the road. Now!"

Dad turned to me, dropping his voice to a more normal tone. "James, get my medical bag and follow me."

I scurried to obey as he scooped Jessica into his arms and carried her to the front of the bus calling out to Miss Devonshire to phone 999 and ask for an ambulance to be sent immediately. I found his black doctor's bag on one of the front seats. When I lifted it, it was heavier than I'd expected and I held the case carefully in both hands so as not to let it drop.

The instant the bus stopped, Dad ordered the driver to open the door. Behind us, the other kids pressed forward, anxious to see what would happen next.

As Dad carried Jess down the steps of the bus, I was only a step behind him. He moved a short distance away from the road before laying her flat on the grass, then quickly stripped off his jacket and placed it under her head. I set his medical bag on the ground next to him, feeling incredibly proud that I was allowed to join him and my teacher outside and also incredibly scared for Jessica, who lay unmoving with her eyes closed.

A glance back at the bus showed my friends huddled around the doorway, clearly eager to join us outside.

"Back in your seats," Miss Devonshire ordered. She shooed everyone away from the door and told the driver not to let anyone else get off the bus.

I turned back to my dad who was . . . well, not exactly worried, but as focused as I'd ever seen him.

Dad reached for his medical case and hurriedly opened it, grabbing a couple of instruments that I'd never seen before. He crawled around on the grass until he was kneeling behind Jessica's head and then tilted it back really far. I knew my dad and knew from his actions that, whatever had happened to Jess, it was pretty bad. And that made me feel really scared for her.

"What are you doing?" Miss Devonshire asked, hovering over him.

"There's a foreign object – probably a piece of that apple – lodged in her trachea." Dad kept his eyes on Jess as he spoke. "I'm going to put a laryngoscope down her throat and try to remove the obstruction with forceps. If that doesn't work, I'll need to perform a tracheostomy."

I wasn't sure what any of that meant, only saw that Miss Devonshire gasped at his words which must mean it was quite serious.

Dad handed me a metal instrument that looked like a pair of scissors bent in the middle, except the ends were little loops instead of being pointed or sharp. I stared at it, wondering what Dad would use it for.

"James, hold this by the handles until I ask for it," he said. I took the instrument from him being careful to hold it exacctly as he'd instructed. I was actually going to help him save Jessica and I didn't want to mess up my part for either of their sakes.

I stole another quick look at the bus. Every window was filled with the face of one of my classmates staring down at us. Their eyes were riveted on my Dad and Jess and their mouths gaped open – obviously as terrified as I was by this turn of events.

Dad leaned down and started to slide something into Jessica's wide open mouth. It was a metal tube with a long blade-like thing attached at the top. The thing was huge and, as it continued to slide down her throat, I wondered why she wasn't choking. One glance at Dad's face – totally concentrated on what he was doing – told me this wasn't the time to ask.

"Yeah," Dad said to himself as he peered down into the instrument. "There it is."

Holding the metal thing in Jessica's mouth with his left hand and not taking his eyes away from her, he reached out his right hand toward me. "James, hand me the forceps by the handles."

Forceps? So that's what this strange thing was called. I carefully placed the instrument in his hand exactly as he'd instructed, making sure not to drop it. Dad took the the instrument from me and immediately adjusted his grip. As I watched, he slid it right into the middle of whatever was already in Jessica's throat. I couldn't imagine anything worse than having all that stuff in your mouth and, when I briefly glanced up again at the bus windows, was pretty sure everyone else had the same thought.

It was all I could do not to gag as Dad continued to fiddle with the instruments in Jessica's throat. It seemed like forever as he twisted and turned the forceps, as I now knew they were called.

"Almost there," he said and I held my breath. Dad's entire focus was on Jessica's throat which was good because, as far as I could tell, she wasn't even breathing. I could only hope that whatever he was doing would work because I didn't even want to think about what might happen if he failed.

Cars drove by. Miss Devonshire continued to stand over us, breathing heavily. The kids stared down at us from the bus windows. And the world seemed to stand still.

Dad gave the instrument in her mouth yet another small twist. "Got it," he said to no one in particular. "Easy now."

I couldn't take my eyes away as he started to pull back on his right hand, slowly and carefully, as he kept his gaze on the thing in her throat. A few seconds later, he pulled the forceps out of her mouth, and I stared with a combination of awe and horror at the chunk of something held tightly between the prongs.

Dad leaned back on his heels and sighed heavily. "It's that piece of apple alright," he said, holding it up briefly for all to see. Miss Devonshire put her hand to her mouth and looked away. In the bus, some kids obviously couldn't take their eyes away from the scene and the others clearly couldn't bear to watch. It didn't look all that bad to me – mostly like a piece of apple. Still, the thought that it had been stuck in Jessica's throat made me swallow hard a couple of times.

Dad dropped the forceps still holding the apple on a piece of gauze then again leaned over Jessica's face and stared through the instrument in her throat. After what seemed like forever, he looked up. "Yeah, that's all. Trachea's clear."

He pulled the big thing out of her mouth and set it aside, then turned Jessica onto her right side. She still hadn't moved, and I wondered if she was still alive.

Dad again reached into his bag and this time pulled out out his stethoscope. He opened the top of Jessica's blouse and pressed the stethoscope against her chest, first listening to the right side and then to the left. In the distance, I could hear the sound of an approaching siren and silently prayed that it was the ambulance.

As I continued to watch, I thought I saw Jess's chest starting to rise and fall. Even I knew that meant she was breathing, which meant she was alive. It was now my turn to let out a long breath of relief.

"Is she all right?" Miss Devonshire asked.

Dad glanced up at her. "She's ventilating adequately. We'll get her on oxygen when the ambulance arrives, which should help her breathing."

"Thank goodness." I could hear my teacher sigh with relief. "Thank goodness you were here or she might have died."

"Yes, she might have," Dad responded. "But she didn't. She'll be alright."

"Thanks to you."

In that moment, I was suddenly incredibly proud of my dad and equally proud to be his son. From what Miss Devonshire had said and from what I'd seen with my own eyes, if Dad hadn't been here, if he hadn't come along on this stupid field trip, Jess could well be dead. He'd saved her. It was something that I doubted any of the other mums or dads could have done. He might be weird, he might embarrass me more often than I'd like, but he had saved the life of one of my friends – and in front of all my classmates to boot.

And, even better, Dad had asked me to help him. Sure, my role had been small – I'd done nothing more than hand him those forceps. But he could just have easily asked Miss Devonshire to assist, and instead he'd asked me. He'd trusted me not to drop the instrument, not to hand it to him the wrong way, not to screw up. He'd trusted me to help save Jessica. I couldn't help smiling to myself.

Within a minute, the ambulance had pulled up on the road next to us and a lady attendant came running up. Dad rattled off a lot of medical stuff to her. While I didn't understand much of what he was saying, the woman kept nodding her head and saying "Yes, Doctor," every so often.

I stayed as quiet as I could. No one had yet asked me to leave, to get back on the bus. And I wanted to stay to see what happened.

I watched as they put an oxygen mask on Jessica's face. That seemed to wake her up and she started to struggle.

The ambulance lady tried to calm her down. "It's all right, dear. You got a little something stuck in your throat. It's out now, and you're going to be fine, but we're taking you to hospital to be on the safe side."

"Get a line of saline in her," Dad said to the attendant. "In case we need it later. Run it to keep open."

Part of my wanted to look away when the ambulance lady stuck a needle into Jess's arm and attached it to a bag of fluid. But I made sure to keep my eyes on her, if for no other reason than I wanted Jessica to see a friendly face if she did wake up enough to look around.

A few minutes later, the other attendant brought out a stretcher and the two ambulance people lifted Jess onto it.

Dad repacked his medical bag and pulled back on his jacket as they worked. Finally, he turned to me. "James, I'm going to go with her in the ambulance to hospital. Go ahead and ride back with the others but tell your mother I may be a bit late getting home tonight."

I stole another look at Jessica, now with what seemed like a bunch of tubes attached to her. "She's going to be alright, isn't she?"

"Yes, she's going to be fine," he assured me in the confident voice I'm come to know so well. "I expect she'll be back in school tomorrow." He nodded toward the bus. "Now you get back on the bus and behave yourself on the way home."

"Yes, Dad." I dropped my shoulders and started to make my way across the grass.

"And James."

I turned back, flinching slightly as I wondered what other prohibitions my dad had in store for me. "Yes, Dad?"

"Thank you for assisting me today. What you did was very important. You stayed calm and did an excellent job." With that, he gave me a curt nod, the absolute tiniest smile I'd ever seen, then turned away and started walking toward the ambulance.

Oh my goodness! I could hardly believe my ears. I wanted to clap my hands. I wanted to scream with delight. I wanted to jump up and down and run all around.

I didn't do any of that, of course, because I would have looked stupid in front of my friends.

"Yes, James," Miss Devonshire was saying as we walked toward the bus. "You were very brave today. I'm proud of you, just like your Dad is."

"Thank you, Miss Devonshire."

I had a great big smile on my face as I climbed back aboard the bus, Miss Devonshire right behind me. All of the other kids immediately clustered around, asking for details about what had happened to Jess, what my dad had done to save her, and my role in the rescue. I'd never felt more important or more proud in all my life.

As the bus started to pull away, I reflected on my day. Dad hadn't allowed me to pet or feed that cute little lamb. What he had done was trust me to help him save my friend's life. And that, I decided, was something very special. Very special indeed.

_~The End~_

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

**A big thank-you to jd517 for helping me understand what young children think and do.**

**As always, my sincerest thanks to those of you who take the time to jot down a few words of encouragement (aka, a "review"). It's the only feedback we FF writers get and it's always much appreciated.**

**And a huge thank-you to BP for creating DM and giving us so much fun writing about his world!**


End file.
